How She Stole Hundreds of Thousands of Dollars and a Heart
by Helena Wells-Bering
Summary: Myka Bering and her team have been stuck with a case whose every lead runs cold. The Time Traveler, a bank robber with the uncanny ability to, well, time travel, is giving her gray hairs. However, the office gossip around her love life might just be worse. There is a little swearing, so T just to be safe.
1. Chapter 1

**[A/N]: Hi there! It's FBI AU time! Thanks for reading, and ily for even opening the first chapter. 3 Enjoy!**

Pete always got on her case about her lunchtime habit. He got bafflingly fixated on it sometimes, and could never wrap his mind around the fact that despite her love of libraries, Myka would always sacrifice the convenience and closeness of the Bureau's library for the comforting, relaxing shelves of the public library a few blocks east of their workplace. It wasn't that she didn't like the Bureau's library, but it was home to _none_ of the classics, of her favorites, and it was so drab. Besides, it didn't have that pleasant, social feeling the public one did.

So, every day at lunch, Myka would sit in the public library, eat a grilled cheese and a salad (no dressing, because as much as the librarians liked her that was where they drew the line) and read in perfect contentment. The natural light was always warm, no matter the season, and the chairs were plush and comfortable in the classics section.

It was a place where she could forget the frustrations of their newest case, and damn, but she needed that. Of course, a case with a crook nicknamed "the Time Traveler" could never be easy. No, never, which meant for Myka late nights, dead end leads, and stress, stress, stress.

They had one single picture of their suspect, and the only useful information it gave them was her gender. Her hair was tied up in a plain headscarf, her eyes hidden by large sunglasses, even though she was inside the bank at some ungodly hour of the night. Lush lips tugged up into what was either a smirk or a smile, but the agents couldn't make it out because her damn face was in profile.

She was called the Time Traveler because she was in and out in seconds flat. The security was tripped as she entered and not a breath later the vault opened and the cameras failed. The breaches never lasted longer than forty five seconds, and no one could figure out how she did it.

A particularly irritating night, poring over crime scene photos, witness reports, and disgusting coffee led to her ripping into her sandwich with an unconscious vengeance the next morning while she paged through _The Invisible Man_, looking up at the sound of an amused little "hmph" sound.

A gorgeous, dark-haired woman sat in one of the armchairs across from Myka, smiling faintly. "Whatever did rye bread do to you, darling?" she inquired, voice dripping with an accent that did something very strange to Myka's gut.

The federal agent swallowed quickly, answering in a faintly apologetic tone, "Rough night at the office, that's all."

"Do have mercy on the poor sandwich. It's not the one driving you mad," the Brit mused, opening her own book and saying no more.

...

The woman became a regular at the library just like Myka, and they began a sort of book club, recommending books to one another and trading excited rants about their favorites. Helena was the woman's name, and Myka found herself more and more often lingering over the Brit's face instead of reading, hanging off every exotically-pronounced syllable.

She was almost disgusted by the degree of her infatuation, not because she thought it was wrong (that particular conflict was a whole other bucket of snakes) but because she was starting to get distracted at work. She had even been late once because of a particularly enthralling discussion with Helena over _War of the Worlds_.

On a Friday five or six weeks into their budding friendship, as Myka was packing up her lunch and her book (_The Scarlet Letter_), she shook her head and blurted, "You're ruining my work ethic, you know."

Helena looked up in surprise, her cheeks going pink as Myka stared in equal if not greater embarrassment as she realized what she had kinda-sorta admitted. "I wish I could say I was sorry but I do hate lying," Helena replied finally, voice as smooth as if she hasn't missed a beat.

The agent cleared her throat awkwardly. "Well, I'll-I'll see you Monday, then."

"Actually, well, I was sorting hoping we could meet sooner? Tonight?" Her voice was silky, yet her expression was almost nervous as she stood to face Myka.

The curly-haired woman was nodding furiously before she even realized it. "Yeah, okay, um, yeah," she finished lamely, even as her stomach was doing strange, excited loop-the-loops.

Helena grinned dazzlingly. "Brilliant. Is dinner okay? Er, six? At the Italian place on 17th?"

Myka nodded again, at a loss for words. "Maybe six thirty, I get off work at half past five," she managed eventually, fighting the ridiculous smile stealing across her lips.

Helena nodded brightly and Myka shifted her feet. "I-I should go, I don't want to be late to work again," she admitted. "I'll see you tonight, Helena."

"It's a date!" the Brit answered cheerily.

Myka stopped in her tracks, unable to name the sensation in her chest. "Is it?"

Helena glanced away, taken aback by Myka's change in demeanor. "I was rather hoping so."

Myka squared her shoulders and continued on her way. "It's a date, then."

...

The Federal Investigation Bureau was a very serious, highly regulated department. It dealt with high security threats crossing all state borders, and each agent was highly trained and dangerous.

It was staffed entirely by children.

Especially on Fridays. Anxious for the weekend, Pete and Claudia spent the whole day having a paper airplane fight, with poor Jinks stuck in the middle. It wasn't like they had any new leads in the Time Traveler case anyway, so they weren't shirking much actual work. Artie's computer crashed twice, at eight fifty six and one twenty seven exactly (you could set your watch to it, it happened every day), prompting Claudia to stick a stuffed animal in his face to calm him down while she fixed the problems. The young tech was brilliant and resourceful but highly unsuited to office work; Artie and the bureau as a whole had given up trying to make her obey the dress code.

Restless to get ready for her date(!) Myka began packing away her files, stopping only when she realized the stares she was attracting. A flush crept up her neck as Pete cleared his throat. "Uh, Mykes," he reminded her, "it's five thirty." Her partner and number one confidante, he was often stuck working with her on all her late nights.

"So it is," she agreed, willing her voice not to fail.

"You stay until past ten," Claudia added, slowly pulling her feet off her desk to watch the scene unfold. Her eyes glimmered as Myka turned to face them. "What's the hot gossip, Mykalicious?"

"Don't ever call me that again."

"She is allowed to leave anytime after five thirty, it's none of your business, children," Artie yelled from his office.

"Where are you going?" Pete asked slyly.

"Nowhere," she replied a little too quickly.

Even if her voice hadn't given her away, it didn't get past lie detector Jinksy. "Try again, Myka." The closely-shaven man got annoying with his immediate dispelling of lies but there was no denying he was worth his weight in gold in the interrogation room, no matter how much Claudia corrupted his work ethic.

"Home?" Not quite a lie; she wanted to change before her date. A date with Helena, oh my god.

"Almost there," Jinks disagreed.

Myka sat back against the edge of her desk awkwardly, brushing some loose curls out of her face as she mumbled, "I'm going to dinner."

"A little louder, please!" Pete urged her.

"I have a date!" she yelled.

"With who?" asked Agent Martino, an investigator from a different team, as he walked by. There was something strangely unpleasant in his tone.

"Yeah, how can you meet anyone when you spend all her time here, asleep, or both?" Claudia pressed.

Pete snapped his fingers and Myka could just see the lightbulb go off. "Mykes! Did you meet a nerd at the library!"

"No! ...Yes," she confessed before Steve could call her out on the lie. She braced herself for the onslaught of questions and was not disappointed.

"What's his name?" (From Steve)

"Is he hot?" (From Claudia)

"What's he like?" (Steve again)

"Anyone we know?" (Sam, with a twinge of jealousy that she would rather do without)

"Do you liiiike him?" (Pete, of course)

Him, he, he, him. Yikes. This was gonna be hard to explain. Especially to Sam, her never-really-accepted-it-and-moved-on-ex. Myka felt her blush threaten to return.

"All of you shut up!" Artie barked. "Let the poor girl escape!"

"Thanks, Artie," Myka said dryly, gathering her bag and coat. "I'll see you guys Monday."

"This isn't over, Bering! Prepare to kiss and tell!" Claudia yelled.

Myka's face erupted in a burning blush and she fled to hail a cab outside.

...

Myka's thoughts on the way to the restaurant were conflicted; elation, a bit of dread, and mostly nervousness battled within her._ I'm so overdressed oh but this place is fancy maybe I'm underdressed what if it just fizzles out I'm gonna blow it I'm gonna fuckin blow it oh my god do I really like- now is not the time to try and figure out your feelings Myka Bering just go out and have fun things will be more clear afterwards oh my gOD I'M GONNA BLOW IT._

She managed to compose herself outwardly as the cab drew up to the restaurant, tugging at the hem of her red is-it-too-long-or-is-it-too-short cocktail dress. The night was warm, and she was glad to have chosen a sleeveless dress from her limited arsenal.

Entering nervously, Myka scanned the room for the woman she was supposed to meet. For a second, she saw no one, until like a mirage her date appeared, beaming at the sight of the agent. Myka was sure that the relieved swoop in her stomach was visible as she made her way over and Helena rose fluidly to her feet.

_Oh my god_. The Englishwoman was clad in a strapless turquoise dress that clung to her perfectly. Myka tore her eyes away, focusing instead on Helena's brilliant smile. "Hi," the agent offered.

Helena laughed. "Hi," she replied, pulling out Myka's chair for her.

"Thank you. And I thought chivalry was dead," Myka murmured as the Brit returned to her seat.

"Not so long as I am alive," Helena declared gallanty. "You look absolutely lovely," she added breathlessly, taking in Myka's appearance with sparkling eyes.

Myka blushed and ducked her head. Good lord, this woman made her feel like some flighty teenager. Myka had shot people, for god's sake! What was she doing acting so demure?

Helena brushed her soft, dark hair out of her face. "I'm glad you could make it," she said softly, and all of Myka's bravado flew from her mind, replaced by a warm blush that she could hardly think around.

"I'm glad you made the date," Myka answered quietly, smiling.

They did the standard first date dance; work, friends, basic information. Helena worked in imports and exports downtown, she didn't have many friends in DC yet, being new to the city, et cetera et cetera. Despite the mundane topics, Myka was never not delighted with everything Helena had to say. The twisting in her stomach never went away-god, would she ever not have butterflies in her stomach when she talked to this woman? She was fascinating, charming, exciting, beautiful-everything Myka herself was not, and Myka was intoxicated by it.

She didn't realize the passing of time until the waiter placed the check on the table, coming to her senses just in time to snatch the check, special agent reflexes working faster than her date's. "Not on your life, Wells," she warned as Helena reached her hand out.

"No, I insist," Helena persisted.

"Well, I refuse," Myka retorted. "I won't take no for an answer."

"I'm afraid you'll be disappointed, then, darling," Helena replied smoothly, rising to her feet.

Myka dug in her purse for her wallet, hardly noticing as the Brit came around the table, but she definitely noticed as Helena gently ran electrifying fingers up Myka's arm. As Helena leaned down, her hair tickled Myka's shoulder, lush lips brushing the shell of the agent's ear. Myka was lost in a whirl of sensation, Helena's touch sending shivers up and down her spine, almost missing the accented purr, "I'll take _that_."

Again, Myka was too fast, rescuing the check before Helena could draw it all the way out of her fingers. She regretted the loss of Helena's touch, but snapped playfully, "That's cheating!"

"What is, darling?" Helena queried coyly, dancing fingers playing up Myka's arm again.

"_That_!" Myka shot back, cheeks flushing pink.

"All's fair," Helena shrugged, returning to her seat with an arch look. "Are you sure, darling? I'd be more than happy to pay."

"Clearly I would, too," Myka replied easily, sliding her card into the little black book and ignoring the thundering of her heart. The waiter accepted it as he passed. "It's no trouble, Helena, really," she told her soothingly.

"Fine, but I pay for the next one," the woman replied, sounding unconvinced.

"Is that a promise?"

"It's a fact, my dear."

...

The cab stopped in front of Myka's building and they both climbed out, Helena signaling for the cabbie to wait.

"I had a lovely evening, darling," Helena murmured, taking Myka's hands in her own.

The federal agent smiled. "Me, too. Thank you, Helena."

One soft hand came up to cup Myka's face. "May I?" Helena asked softly.

"Please," Myka breathed, and the Englishwoman drew her in for a long, soft kiss.

One arm encircled Myka's waist, the other trailing from her cheek to the back of neck, fingers tangling in her curls as Myka tugged her closer. The butterflies in her stomach were fluttering at maximum intensity, high on the taste of Helena's tongue, still spicy from her meal. Her heart pounded in time with the rapidfire beating of her heart.

When they separated, Myka found herself whispering, "Where is this going, Helena?"

"As far as you want it to go, darling," she breathed back, leaning her forehead against Myka's.

The agent brushed Helena's hair behind her ear and kissed her again. "What if what I want isn't what should happen?"

"Then tell me what should happen, and it will come to pass."

Myka groaned, her mouth finding Helena's again. "Well, I think we _should_ return to our separate homes."

"I was afraid you'd say that," Helena sighed.

"My damn rational mind," Myka agreed in a mumble. They stepped out of each other's arms, Helena into her cab and Myka onto the steps of her building, and the cabbie took the Brit off into the night.

...

Myka didn't sleep much that night. She couldn't shut her brain off, turning the night over and over in her mind. She hadn't been able to think when kissing Helena, didn't think twice about kissing her a second, third time. It had felt so right, electrifying. But if it was so right, then why had she let her go?

What had she and Helena become? Where would this path take her? For the life of her, she didn't know, and she definitely didn't know where she wanted it to go. She wanted Helena, that much she knew, but for what, well, she couldn't answer.

She didn't know where to begin with what this meant for her sexuality. She had never in her wildest dreams seen herself so attracted to another woman. Not wanting to think about what her family would think, she rolled over and tried to imagine the others in her life.

Work was going to be an experience, come Monday. She vividly remembered the last time she had a date with someone new, that someone being Sam, and the office had nearly ripped her apart, scrounging for their fix of gossip.

But what would she tell them? What would they think?_ Hi guys, so my date was with a really really attractive woman and and and_

And what? What else was there to say?

**[A/N]: This'll be a shorter fic, four or five (maybe six! *gasp*) chapters max. I'm kinda digging it so far? Are you! Please review and tell me what you think!**


	2. Chapter 2

**[A/N]: Chapter Two! Thanks for the great support already!**

Crime saved her life, it turns out. Her coworkers waited politely for about an hour after she arrived, but the air in the room was anxious and tense. Finally she stood turned to face the toddlers watching her every move and spread her hands, resigned. "Fire away," she sighed, bracing herself for the worst.

Claudia jumped to her feet, bolting to her friend and clutching her shoulders. "Tell me everything!" she ordered.

"Chill, Claud," Pete admonished. "What's gotten into you?"

Steve shrugged. "I get it. Some good news would be nice for a change."

"What makes you think it's good news?" Myka blurted.

Pete grinned. "Mykes, you're on top of the world today."

"I've spoken two sentences to you people!" she protested.

"I'm your partner. I can tell," he replied sagely, a smug look on his face.

"Deets, deets!" Claudia insisted.

Artie appeared and slapped some files on Pete's desk. "Plenty of 'deets' right here, Claudia," he barked. "The Time Traveler hit on Sunday and she slipped up!"

"Pictures?" Myka inquired greedily, snapping up the folders and the chance to escape interrogation.

"Just one. But we have a license plate to track."

Myka found the photo, an enlarged section of a selfie taken the day before, across the street from the bank the felon had robbed. A nondescript blue compact sat on the corner, its plates blurry but legible. A woman was climbing into the driver's seat, looking around, face in profile again, hair and eyes covered. Myka searched her memory, drawing up the other picture and matching it to this woman. "Artie, this could be it," she said in a hushed tone.

"It might just pan out," he agreed. "Brief the others and get on it."

Myka spread the pages and photo on Pete's desk and pointed. "It's her, and this is her getaway car. Hunt her down, Claud."

...

"Mykes, take your lunch in a bag, we're heading to talk to the rental place _now_," Pete insisted, grabbing her arm as she tried to leave for the library. "Come on!"

"But-"

"Your boyfriend can wait, the trail gets colder every second," he snapped.

Myka hesitated, but ultimately her job had to come before the woman she had met mere months ago. "Fine! Let me go, I'm coming!"

They all but sprinted to Pete's car, following the GPS to the rental place Claudia had tracked the car to. The manager had reported the Time Traveler's car stolen a week ago, but it had reappeared in the lot, sparkling clean and with a full tank of gas. They swept the car for fibers, particulates, DNA-to no avail. And witnesses? Don't make her laugh. Myka drew in a breath to snap in frustration, but her phone rang.

"Hello?" she snapped into the receiver.

"Oh, I, oh, is this a bad time?" Helena's voice asked uncertainly.

Myka flushed violent red, anger bleeding away as she leaned back against the hood of the car. "No, um, hi. Sorry."

"Rough day at work, darling?" she asked sympathetically.

The agent sighed. "Yeah, no, it's nothing. I'm sorry I couldn't make lunch."

"I suppose I can forgive you," Helena teased. Myka closed her eyes, adoring the way she pronounced the words.

"Is that your library nerd?" Pete asked excitedly. "Gimme the phone!"

"What the-Pete, cut it out!" She beat him away, fleeing around the car to sound of Helena laughing heartily. "I'm sorry, that was just my DUMB ASS PARTNER!" she yelled, half into the phone and half at Pete, who grinned impishly.

"I can forgive that too," Helena chortled, voice bubbly with mirth.

"Are we still on for lunch tomorrow?" Myka asked, following Pete to their car at a safe distance.

"And every day this week, if tradition holds," Helena replied cheerily. "I'll see you then, Myka."

"Bye, Hel." She hung up and climbed in the car.

"What's Hel short for?" Pete asked eagerly, starting the vehicle.

"None of your business," she muttered.

"I know a guy named Rahel, dating anyone by that name?"

"Drop it, Lattimer," she warned.

"Some weird nickname for Harold?"

"It's none of your business."

Pete continued in this vein, progressively becoming more ridiculous, until they reached the Bureau, and pestered her the whole elevator ride up to their department. Finally, she had had enough.

She slapped her files on her desk and yelled, "It's short for Helena, alright? Fuck off!"

"What's short for Helena?" Claudia asked, glancing up from her furiously typing fingers.

Myka stopped, a mortified blush creeping up her face. "Um-"

"You're dating a _woman_?" Pete blurted out.

"You owe me twenty bucks," Myka heard Steve mutter to Claudia.

Myka dropped herself in her desk, shrinking low as if maybe that way the embarrassment would stop. "It's none of your business," she snapped.

She felt a hand on her shoulder. "Hey, I'm sorry," Pete muttered. "It, uh, it just sorta came out of left field." He palmed the back of his neck awkwardly.

"What's going on?" she heard Sam inquire, stepping out of the break room. "What came out of left field?"

"Oh great," Myka whispered, and felt Claudia's hand on her other shoulder.

"She'll tell us when she's ready," the young tech told him firmly.

Myka glanced up to see Sam give them a weird look before obeying Pete's gestures to _scram_. "Thanks, Claud."

In response, the tech picked up a file and smacked Pete with it, grating, "Why was I the one told to chill this morning? You have _no_ chill!"

"I said I was sorry!" Pete protested. "Stop hitting me! Myka forgave me already! Right, Myka?"

"Cut it out, Claud," Myka laughed softly. "Thanks."

"Tell us more when you're feeling less pressured," Steve reassured her.

She sat up on her desk and brushed some hair out of her face. "I'll get around to it. Um, anyway-rental was a bust, Claud, you got anything else for us?"

Claudia slid into her chair, turning the screen towards them. "I'm trying to run facial reconstruction, but it's kinda hard with only blurry photos of half her face."

"Have you tried comparing the profile to the FBI's criminal database?"

"It's running on your computer right now."

"Great. Anything else?"

"You'll be the first to know."

...

Myka set her bag on her desk and cleared her throat awkwardly. "So, um. Her name is Helena," she began slowly, not meeting the three pairs of eyes that snapped to her face. "I met her at the library a couple months ago," she continued, tone careful. "We've been dating the last few weeks." She stopped, at a loss for something else to say.

"What's she look like?" Claudia prompted.

Myka pushed her hair back from her face and fought the smile stealing at her lips. "_Gorgeous_," she sighed. Starting and swallowing awkwardly, she straightened and continued, "She's got long, straight black hair, dark eyes. Um, a little shorter than I, and pale skin."

"Nice," Pete murmured. Steve smacked his arm, muttering something about being considerate. This coming from the guy betting on her sexuality, for god's sake.

The corners of her lips curved up as she continued, "She's English, and she calls everyone _darling_. And she, she laughs like sunlight." Steps sounded behind her and without turning she tentatively acknowledged, "Hi, Sam."

"Who are we talking about?" he asked casually, hands in his pockets as he came around to lean on Pete's desk.

Myka mustered her courage, surreptitiously wiping her palms on her pants before looking him dead in the eye and answering, "The woman I'm dating."

His eyebrows furrowed and she tensed. But to her relief, all he asked was, "A woman?" It was an almost accusatory tone, and she faltered a little at the sound of it.

Claudia shrugged, moving closer to Myka in a subtle show of support. "Helena, British, and so help me god you have no right to judge."

He put up his hands innocently and replied, "No judgment here. Just...surprise."

"Agent Martino, return to your office," Artie interrupted sourly. "I need to debrief my team."

Sam hesitated, but voiced no opposition and disappeared. "What's up, Artemis?" Claudia asked.

"Nothing. I just don't like that guy." With that, he stumped back into his office, leaving his agents staring after him in bemused disbelief.

"We have a great boss," Pete said dreamily.

"Sam's not a bad guy," Myka muttered, fiddling with her pen.

"Just a bit too jealous," Claudia shrugged. Her computer made a noise, an awkward mix between a honk and a ding and she scooted back over to it. "It took a whole day to fail?" she griped. "Fracking piece of..." She trailed off, muttering incoherently and tapping at keys.

"What about the database search?" Myka asked, pointing to her own computer.

"Nada," the young agent murmured distractedly.

"So the new picture was a bust?" Myka deflated. Good news in her office was never slow to sour. She wanted to punch something.

"For the moment, yeah."

"Steve, you silent sonuvagun!" Pete yelled suddenly, rolling his chair over to the lie detector's desk. "Have you made any headway?"

He shook his head. "If there was a connection between locations and dates, I would've found it. No, this woman has completely randomized her target list."

Myka paced, agitated. "What do we know? What are we missing?" she hissed under her breath, tapping her mouth with a knuckle. "All of you, gather every single fact we have, everything we've learned. I want crime scene photos, I want details, get me _everything_. I'm gonna go see if someone has a whiteboard."

...

The map of the DC area was marked with eight Xs, one for each back the Time Traveler had hit since her debut a year ago. A blue X marked the oldest hit, green the newest, and lines were drawn between the hits-but still there was no pattern. The map was taped to the center of the whiteboard, the photos of the woman's face stuck to the upper right corner. Claudia had managed to salvage a terrible-quality reproduction of the lower half of the woman's face, but they all knew the image couldn't be trusted. It was just there to provide a bit of hope.

Crime scene photos circled the map, each one with the same information; sensor tripped within lobby, and a few seconds later the vault would open. Another thirty seconds and the lobby sensors went off again. The police would arrive and there wouldn't be a single thing out of place, except for at the fifth scene. A chair had been knocked over; in the picture, her foot was just catching on its leg. Myka had so many questions about that-why take a photo then? Besides which, it should've taken a video; this had been lifted off a security camera.

She started at the glorious mess of data before her, utterly stumped. "Is it five thirty yet?" she sighed, rubbing her temples.

Claudia checked the clock. "Just past two, actually."

"Oh, shit!" She checked her phone for messages; just a text from Helena: _Make it up to me with dinner tonight_

Was she angry? For the life of her, Myka couldn't tell. She tentatively hit reply: _My place, 6?_

The answer was not long in coming: _Sounds lovely._

...

She stared at her kitchen in disappointment. The fridge stared back balefully. "Inspire me!" she insisted plaintively. She wanted the meal to be perfect, just in case Helena really was upset about her missing lunch for the second time this week. At a loss, she texted the only person she thought could help her.

_Claudia, what should I make for dinner? _she typed anxiously.

_well tbh my favorite meal is doritos and grilled cheese but somehow i feel like thats not what u had in mind_

_Claudia, this is serious!_

_sorry, sorry. what do u cook best? whatever it is, do that._

_I guess I'll give it a shot_, she replied dubiously, sticking her phone into her pocket.

She put her hands on her hips and surveyed the kitchen. "Well, it's novel if anything," she told no one uncertainly, rolling up her sleeves.

...

She'd stuck a small Post-it on the door reading, _Come Right In!_ The door opened, and the excited smile slipped off Myka's face when she heard Pete's voice. "So Claudia told me you have a date tonight," he said casually, entering the kitchen and stealing a beer from the fridge.

Unable to come away from the stove for fear of burning the food, Myka snapped, "Pete, get out! She'll be here any second!" She'd deal with Claudia later.

"But I wanna meet her!" he protested.

"Tough! What happened to telling you when _I'm _ready?" she demanded.

"Pleeeeeeease?" he begged.

"Pete," she began in a warning tone, "I am holding a hot pan in one hand and I am not afraid to hit you with it."

"But-"

"Get out!" To highlight her threat, she lifted the pan slightly, and he bolted.

"Oh!" she heard Helena exclaim as Pete threw open the door.

"Pete, run and run fast!" Myka yelled.

"But-fine, I expect a formal introduction later!" he shouted back. She listened to his heavy footsteps recede and Helena's approach.

"Who was that?" she asked, sounding amused as she came up beside Myka.

"My partner, Pete," she replied, shaking her head. "He's been bugging me about you ever since he found out you're a she."

"Was that so surprising to him?" she asked, watching Myka's hands as she cooked. "Omelettes for dinner, darling?"

"It's most of my cooking repertoire," Myka relied, smiling. She paused. "I guess he was pretty flabbergasted, considering the last time I went on a date was with a guy from another unit in our department." A blush crept up her cheeks.

"I see. Well, it smells lovely, darling," Helena hummed.

Another smile stole across Myka's face as she deposited one omelette on a plate and cracked the eggs for another. "Anything particular you'd like in there?"

"Surprise me," the Brit replied easily, leaning back on the counter.

Minutes later, and they were on the couch, devouring the meal with gusto. They talked about everything and nothing, reveling in each other's company. Myka found herself stealing glances, watching Helena as she ate, pushed back her hair, shifted her weight.

Their plates were barely clear when Helena's phone rang loudly. She checked the screen and scrambled to her feet. "Oh! Oh my god, I'm so sorry, I have to take this. I'll be just outside," she said quickly, bolting out the door before the agent could get a word in edgewise. It swung shut just in time for Myka to hear, "Charles? Oh, god, is everything okay?"

The agent, deciding with difficulty not to jump to conclusions and eavesdrop, gathered up the plates and took them to the kitchen. She had them washed, dried, and replaced in the cupboards, and yet still, Helena had not returned. A lump in her throat tightened nervously, but she got out bowls and ice cream, waiting and fidgeting.

Relief washed over her as Helena reopened the door, one hand over her mouth, eyes brimming with tears. "Okay, baby, I love you, too," she whispered. Myka's heart leapt into her throat. "Get better, I love you so much. Give Charles my love. Bye-bye, I love you." She set the phone down, looking winded.

"Good news?" Myka asked hesitantly, emerging from the kitchen.

"The best," Helena whispered. She staggered heavily against the wall, a dazed smile creeping across her face. "My baby-my daughter, Christina, has-she's awake," she whispered as if hardly daring to believe it. "Th-that was my baby's voice."

Two swift kisses, a desperate apology, and Helena was gone, just like that.

**[A/N]: To end this, I would like to thank you for your sweet reviews last time, POIfan, Lyapunovsky, tcatch20, and Rachel452! I really appreciate the feedback!**

**I would also like to mention the guest review I got on this, about my rating-I am very, very sorry that I offended you, or anyone else. I did not think that my f-bomb would affect the rating so much (I had it at K+ in the first place), but I have changed it accordingly. Does T seem right to you? **

**And to anyone else in the future displeased/offended by my rating, please let me know, I will be happy to accommodate you! Just, please, don't be as rude as this reviewer was-I like to think that I am reasonable and I want everyone to enjoy reading my fanfics as much as I do writing them, so please, don't hesitate to come to me with the same measure of kindness I will always extend to you. Thanks, and enjoy. :)**


	3. Chapter 3

**[A/N]: I'm alive! I'm sorry! I'm in school. DX Sorry it took so long to update, I'm not even gonna try to promise it won't happen again. I'm not super happy with this, but I figured you've waited long enough, and I want to finish this before posting anything new.**

"You mean she just left? In the middle of your date?"

"I don't know, it wasn't really the middle," Myka mumbled. "We had already finished dinner..."

"Well, did she say why?" Claudia asked in concern, sitting on the edge of Myka's desk.

The older woman nodded awkwardly. "She got a call and ran out, and when she came back in she said..." Myka trailed off, swallowed, and found her voice again. "She said it was her daughter─that she was awake."

"You mean like from a coma, awake?" Pete asked, eyes wide.

"Well, why else would she run off like that? It has to be," the young redhead agreed.

"You don't think she was lying?" Myka worried.

"Why would she lie? Is everything okay between you two?" Steve pressed gently.

Myka nodded. "I mean, I think so. I just missed lunch yesterday─because of the case."

"Then she probably was telling the truth. That's too little to be upset about," Pete said cheerily. He clapped her on the shoulder. "She'll call soon, I promise."

"And if she doesn't?"

"She will," he assured her simply.

...

To Myka's immense relief, he was right. She called just after Myka got home from work.

"Helena! Is everything okay?" she asked immediately.

The woman laughed, sounding bone tired. "Yes, darling. I'm okay, Christina's alive, and Charles is sleeping for what he claims is the first time in months."

"Where are you?"

"We're in London. I'm sorry for not telling you sooner."

"That's okay," Myka breathed, "I'm just glad you called me."

"I'm sorry I made you doubt, darling," the Brit whispered.

Myka shook her head furiously, falling back onto her couch. "No, it's okay, really. I'm just a worrier." She pushed her curls out of her eyes with a weary hand.

Helena was silent for a moment, and Myka heard a small voice on the other line that she couldn't quite make out. "I'm sorry if I'm keeping you awake, my love, but you've been sleeping for a year, and I'm not leaving this room!" she exclaimed, voice warm with affection. "Sorry, Myka. That was Christina."

"Helena...when will you be coming back? Will you be coming back?" Myka asked in a quiet voice as tight as the feeling in her chest.

Helena was silent for a moment. "I am," she answered finally, "but I'm not sure if for very long. Likely just so I can earn enough to pay off the last of Christina's treatments."

"Oh," she whispered, sounding very small. "What does that mean? For us?"

Another pause. "For the long run? I don't know."

"And the short run?" Myka prompted, dread building with an ache in her chest.

"I...I think that should be up to you, Myka. It's your choice, only know that I can not promise you anything for the future." When Myka said nothing, not trusting herself to speak, the Brit continued. "I'll come back on Thursday, just in time for lunch. Whether you join me is up to you."

They sat in silence for a long, long while. Finally, Myka mustered her voice and murmured, "I need to think about...about everything."

"Good night, darling," Helena breathed in response.

"Good night."

...

"Morning, Myka," the librarian greeted her cheerfully, reshelving an armful of Jules Verne books.

"Hi, Sandy," Myka yawned, flipping through _Jane Eyre_ without really reading it.

"Long night?" Sandy asked, running her fingers along the spines of the books and putting a hand on her hip. Glasses worn solely for decoration were pushed up to her forehead.

"You bet." Myka shut the book and rubbed at her eyes. She reached for her purse and dug for her sandwich. She didn't find anything. "Oh my god, I forgot my lunch."

Sandy laughed. "I've got some leftover fruit salad in the back, but you're not allowed to eat it with a book in your lap."

"No, that's fine. I'll just steal from Steve's leftovers back at work."

Sandy grinned, then paused, looking around. "Where's Helena? She's always here, even when you're not."

"Family troubles," Myka said succinctly in a tone that warned the librarian not to pry.

The girl shrugged. "I hope everything's okay and she's back soon. It was so cute, watching you two fall so hard."

Myka flinched so violently she almost tore a page out of the book, but managed to pass it off as a cough. Which seemed to only make her situation worse, as Sandy nodded knowingly. "Like a ton of bricks off the Empire State," the redhead added smugly.

"Thank you for your input, Sandy," Myka managed, fingers knotting together and cheeks going pink. "Any other similes to make about me and Helena?"

Sandy thought, tossing a book from hand to hand. "Unexpected but great chemistry? You're like Olicity."

"_What_ city?"

"Um, never mind. Yeah, no, that's all I got."

"Much appreciated," Myka said flatly.

Sandy held up her hands innocently. "Aight, I get it, I'm scramming. Have a good one, Myka."

…

Wednesday rolled around after sleepless nights and a total lack of progress in the case. Pete weaseled the details out of her on Tuesday, so Wednesday morning he was the only one who understood when she said, out of the blue, "I'm going."

He made his way over to her desk, leaning his butt on the edge and scrutinizing her. "Are you sure?"

She shrugged helplessly, and pretended not to notice as Claudia and Steve surreptitiously rolled closer. "It's not like _not_ going will spare me any heartbreak."

He shrugged. "If you're sure, then."

They spent the day with a psychoanalyst, studying the crimes; it was always cash stolen, but no deposits matching the stolen money had been made anywhere that Claudia could find. The burglar had thought out every aspect; whatever signal she had used to jam all the security signals was so cleverly programmed that not even Claudia could trace.

Myka at her lunch in the office silently, staring through the sandwich in her hand without really seeing it, think only about Helena's smile, the way she made Myka laugh, the bond between Christina and Helena…

…

Myka paced the aisles of the library restlessly, watching the tall glass windows that face the street. Sunlight streamed into the building in bright shafts. A figure caught her attention out of the corner of her eye; Helena, walking past the window to the front door, wearing sunglasses against the sun's glare. The sunlight turned the profile of her face into a dark silhouette.

Something cold and horrible settled in Myka's stomach, and before her mind could fully work it out, she hurried back through the shelves, hiding from the woman she was dating. She dodged readers and burst out the door on the other side of the block, panicking as her eidetic memory put the pieces together.

Helena came to town just a few weeks before the first robbery. There had been no robberies since she had been in London. Myka's hands came up to her face in despair. It couldn't be a coincidence, it couldn't. Helena's profile perfectly matched that of the Time Traveler. Myka hurried back to the Bureau, breathing hitching in her throat.

She dropped heavily into her desk chair at work, desperately flipping through her file until she found the pictures. Her eyes traced the Time Traveler's profile, bringing up the single image of Helena's sunlit silhouette. No, she wasn't wrong.

"Myka? I thought you were going to the library?" Pete's voice sent a jolt through her, and she stared up at him. "What's the matter, Mykes?" he asked in concern, coming around and putting a hand on her shoulder.

She slid the pictures to him. When she spoke, her voice was raspy and nearly inaudible. "Her name is Helena Wells. From England, with a work visa."

He slowly picked up the pictures. "Myka, are you sure?"

She laughed bitterly. "Eidetic memory, remember? I saw her face in profile and it matched these," she spat, gesturing at the pictures. "_Damn _it!"

An aide knocked on the wall beside the doorway. "There's a woman at the front desk, Agent Bering," he explained. "She has your purse, says you left it at the library. It had your wallet and IDs in it."

She nodded mutely, but Pete said, "Send her up, but stall her at the elevators." He hurried to the staff meal room, hauling Claudia to her feet and ignoring her protests.

"Pete, Steve's gonna eat my mac and cheese!"

He released her at her desk. "Scan the video cameras in front of the building from the last ten minutes. Mykes!"

Myka pushed herself to her feet resignedly and looked over Claudia's shoulder, jaw set. "There," she said suddenly, pointing. The cameras had picked up Helena's face. Compare that to the picture from the first crime scene."

"_What?_" Claudia yelped. "You can't be serious!"

Myka leaned over, one hand on the back of Claudia's chair, watching as the program matched the pictures at key points of reference. "It's not enough for an arrest, but it's enough to get a warrant for _something_," Claudia breathed.

The back of Myka's neck prickled, and she looked up. Helena stood in the doorway, holding her purse. "Second thoughts, darling?" the Brit asked softly.

Claudia's eyes went very wide, and Myka looked away. Pete stepped forward, holding the case file. "Miss Wells, please come with me," he said quietly. She looked alarmed, but followed him down the hall with a last startled glance at Myka.

Claudia waited until she was out of earshot. "_No way_."

"I don't want to talk about it." Myka crossed her arms, wanting to sprint into the room adjoining the interrogation room, to watch through the two-way mirror.

"Myka, I'm so sorry," Steve said softly from the door to the breakroom.

"Please, I've only been on a couple of dates with the woman," Myka grunted, not meeting his eyes. She shrugged, a bitter jerk of the shoulders, and fled the room at a dignified pace.

…

"What's this all about?" Helena asked uncertainly, unconsciously gripping Myka's purse tighter. "I didn't steal her purse, it was just there−"

"It's not about Agent Bering's purse, Miss Wells." Myka, watching with crossed arms from behind the two-way mirror, raised one hand to her lips, chewing on her nail nervously. Of all the gorgeous British women she could've met, it _had _to be the one who was probably robbing banks across D.C. Stupid, stupid Myka. Dating couldn't just be easy, could it?"

Pete was sliding a picture across the table; the crime scene photo. "Let's start the easy way. Is this you, Miss Wells?"

She glanced at it. "No," she replied, sounding very sincere. Myka resisted the bitter urge to snort.

Pete took back the picture, looking at it with a musing look. Claudia slipped quietly into the room and printed out the picture from the security cameras outside the building, with facial recognition points matching the points on another copy of the bank photo. "Are you sure?" he asked. "Because facial recognition gives us a 92% match on this picture of you from twenty minutes ago."

Helena stared at the photos, fear creeping up her face; theatrical or genuine, Myka couldn't tell. Pete got to his feet. "Someone else will be in to question you in a few minutes."

"Where's Myka?" Helena asked suddenly, looking worried.

"Agent Bering is now personally involved in this case. If I know my partner, she'll have withdrawn from it by now." He shut the door behind him. A long minute passed, and the agent behind the glass watched as Helena's hands nervously toyed with a zipper on Myka's purse. She was good, Myka grudgingly gave her that.

"You know I was BSing that, right?" Pete asked, coming into the room and closing the door.

"Yeah. I'm not coming off this case now," she said firmly. He nodded, and turned to watch as Jinksy entered the room.

"Hello, Miss Wells. My name is Agent Jinks. Agent Lattimer chose me to replace Agent Bering on this case." He sat in across from Helena and offered the facial comparison photos again. "Is this you, Miss Wells?"

"Myka told me about you," Helena said softly. "She said you're a lie detector of sorts." Her eyes pleaded with him.

"Miss Wells, please. Is this you, in this black-and-white photo?"

"Does your ability hold up in court?" she asked, a note of challenge in her voice. Myka's eyes narrowed.

Steve took back the photo. "Please, Miss Wells. This will go a lot better if you cooperate."

"You can't hold me without charges," Helena shot back.

The shaven agent studied her, and then shrugged. "We can hold you for twenty-four hours, unless I charge you with impeding a federal investigation.

"That's just sophistry! You're reaching." Myka sucked in a sharp breath through her teeth; innocent people didn't say the sort of things Helena did. And they certainly didn't avoid yes or no questions as easy as the one she was being asked.

Steve got his feet. "If you want a lawyer, Miss Wells, let me know."

"I don't need one," she said insolently. He opened the door to leave−and she was gone. Just like that, as if she vanished into thin air.

**[A/N]: Gasp. Thanks for reading, every review is appreciated!**


	4. Chapter 4

**[A/N]: I don't know what startled you guys more, the end of the last chapter, or my relatively speedy update. XD Enjoy! The end is nigh!**

Myka gave a cry of surprise. "What the _hell_?!" Pete yelled. He tore from the room, scrambling to Claudia to review the videotape from that moment. Myka followed more slowly, watching Steve, Claudia, and Pete gape over the footage of Helena disappearing in the blink of an eye. "Check all the security cameras," Pete snapped.

She appeared once, in a flicker, at the door to the stairs, just a single frame of her appearing in the video. "Oh my god," Steve whispered. "That's not possible."

Myka's purse was still in the interrogation room; she retrieved it, dug out her phone, and, not really hopeful, dialed Helena's number. It went straight to voicemail.

…

She had been put on the wanted list, of course. News in the area had her face plastered all over their channels, with a short spiel about why she was wanted.

Damn, a thousand times damn. Helena couldn't go home now, not with the surveillance surely in place around her apartment. Where could she go, but out of DC? Helena chewed her lip worriedly, clutching the steering wheel of her parked car. She couldn't be caught, that much she knew. She threw the car into gear, plotting out the emptiest route to the highway in her mind. If she couldn't get the last of the payments together, Christina wouldn't live out the month.

Her daughter shouldn't have to pay for Helena's own mistakes. And Helena's pride wouldn't let her ask Charles for the money. So she had no choice but to hit another bank, a final bust. Enough to pay off the last of the money she'd promised, and enough to get her into London illegally. But where would she go from there?

The blaring horn of a pickup yanked her back into reality, and she hurriedly corrected her car, having nearly scraped the side of the truck.

She wanted to blame Myka for this unfortunate turn, but really, it _was _Helena's fault.

God, though, the look of sheer _betrayal _in Myka's eyes in the FBI office. Helena had done that to her. She should've broken it off the instant that she knew Myka was law enforcement. A bitter laugh escaped her. The FBI agent and the bank robber, what could possibly go wrong?

The sun crept into her eyes as it set before her; she reached over and put her sunglasses on. She drove off into the sunset, not missing the irony of it, heart in tatters.

…

"She'll have left town," Myka said. "News bulletins can only do so much; in a case this big, has any branch of any law enforcement department _ever _gotten a useful tip off the nightly news?"

"How do we trace her?" Artie asked, watching her solemnly. Despite her personal involvement in the case, her boss had not raised a complaint when she took charge of the pursuit of Hel−the Time Traveler.

"Run her plates, and run those of any cars reported stolen," the agent replied authoritatively. "We already know that she has no qualms about stealing cars, and that she's good. Hurry, she could change cars at any minute."

"It's been two hours," Pete stepped in, looking at Claudia. "What can you do with that to make our lives easier?"

She nodded. "This is the furthest she could've possibly gotten in two hours by car." On her screen, a map of DC popped up, and an orange circle bloomed outwards from it. Claudia pointed out the edges of the circle.

Myka opened her mouth to ask something, but a ding cut her off. "That's a hit on a stolen car!" Claudia said sharply, drawing up an image from a highway. "Seatbelt camera. Myka, can you tell if that's her?" She pointed at a small white car with rental plates.

Myka leaned in closer. "Is there any way you can get in closer?" she asked Claudia. "I want to be sure." Claudia made a dubious expression, and the image was slightly enlarged. Myka studied the hands gripping the wheel, the face just behind them. She studied the image as long as she dared, comparing the blurry pixels to the face she had spent hours thinking about. "That's her," she said finally. "Pete, with me. Claudia, follow that car as best you can, send us the directions."

She and Pete raced into the parking garage and into Pete's big black SUV. "Lights on, and speed," Myka told him, buckling in.

"I _know_, Mykes," he shot back, shooting out of the parking structure. Myka's phone buzzed, cutting off whatever he was about to say.

"Head west on 66, then take 81 south. She just passed Edinburg," came Claudia's voice. "I've got eyes in the sky and I'm in traffic cams. I'll tell you if she gets off 81."

"Thanks Claud," Myka said, hanging up. "You got that?" she asked Pete. In response, he flicked on the flashing lights and the siren, tearing through downtown DC to the highway.

The hours of driving were passed in terse silence; Pete spent it intensely focused on not crashing while speeding, and Myka stared unseeing out of the window.

There was too much to process about this case. All of the explanations she could come up with were impossible. Teleportation? No. Spontaneous collective fainting? Pfft, no. Even her nickname, the Time Traveler, was impossible.

Why on earth would Helena need to rob banks at all? Was it for her daughter, Christina? To pay for her treatment at the hospital? No, that couldn't be. Healthcare in the UK was free, wasn't it? Myka put her chin in her hand as Pete wove through traffic.

The sun finally disappeared on the horizon, and Pete took off his sunglasses. "South exit to 81," Myka said absently, pointing towards the exit. Pete obeyed, maneuvering through traffic to the looping ramp. He whipped onto the 81 at frightening speed, but thankfully kept control of the car.

Myka's phone rang again; she lifted it to her ear without looking. "What's up, Claud?"

"You said her kid was in the hospital, right? Gimme the name, I'm gonna find her and see if she calls her," the young agent answered without preamble.

"Christina. Wells, probably. And I think her brother Charles is keeping an eye on her while Helena is robbing banks overseas." Myka couldn't keep the edge of resentment from her voice.

"Got her. I'll watch the hospital's main line, and the brother's cell phone."

"How legal is this, Claudia?" Myka asked suspiciously.

"Good question," Claudia replied blandly. "Not sure." She hung up, not doing any favors for Myka's already foul mood. She sent a text with directions about half an hour later; Myka read them aloud to Pete and stared out the window some more.

Steve called about half an hour after dusk. "She made a call to her brother a few minutes ago. Claudia triangulated; you guys are close." He relayed the directions to Pete through Myka and continued, "She lost time casing the joint, and she's definitely getting sloppy. You'll get her, Myka," he added, and she could hear the gentle smile in his voice. "Claudia's got tabs on her cell phone now, we won't lose her unless she pitches her only link to her daughter into the nearest body of water."

"Thanks, Steve. Call if the situation changes."

…

The 300 inhabitants of the area called their home a town; to big city dwellers like Pete and Myka the name was laughable. The town was a main street, a few cul-de-sacs, and two gas stations. Pete pointed out the bakery on their way to the town's lone bank, trying to get Myka to relax. She even laughed, and told him she would buy him an entire pie and drive them home while he ate it, after everything was over.

"I don't know what she expects to get from here," Pete commented. Myka drew her gun and kept low, skirting the front of the little bank.

"Safety deposit boxes don't exactly fit her MO, but at this stage, all bets are off." The back door was unlocked, the number pad beside it fried. The agents slipped into the darkened building.

The vault was undisturbed and still locked. The employee areas were deserted. The pair checked each room thoroughly, and then made their way to the lobby.

The back of Myka's neck prickled as she followed Pete at a few paces. Moonlight streamed in through the front windows, illuminating everything in pale grey. Myka narrowed her eyes and spun, catching the wrist that reached for her; there was a click and Pete froze.

Myka moved to get her handcuffs, and Helena blurted, "If you let go of me, I'll escape, and you'll never see me again."

"You're insane." She tried to pull away, but Helena's hand followed hers, and suddenly their roles were reversed; Helena wrapped her long fingers around Myka's wrist. "Pete!" Myka shouted.

There was no answer; she twisted in Helena's grip to see him standing, still as stone, in the middle of the lobby. He wasn't even breathing.

**[A/N]: Seeing as I've never actually robbed a bank, I can't promise that my bank security is entirely accurate, but here goes. xD**

**I'm getting pretty excited for the end of this story, actually, so expect a much faster update! Thanks for reading!**


	5. Chapter 5

**[A/N]: Thanks for reading this far! ****I'm so glad to be done with this! I did enjoy writing it, but I promised myself I wouldn't upload anything new until this was over haha**

"Myka, darling−"

"Don't call me that," Myka interrupted, the affectionate term stabbing at the betrayal she felt.

"Myka. Listen to me, please," Helena pleaded. As soft as her gorgeous eyes were, though, her grip on Myka's wrist was like iron.

Myka tore her memory away from how those fingers had trailed up her arm on their first date, as light and gentle as they were _not _at this moment. "What did you do?" she hissed. "What the _hell_ is going on?"

Helena brought her free hand forward slowly; Myka tore her eyes away from Helena's and glanced down. "A pocket watch," she said flatly. The case was open; the hands were frozen at 2:19. It was old, ornate and brassy.

"A pocket watch," Helena agreed softly. "When I open it, it stops time for myself and whatever I touch."

"_Really_?" Myka gasped with scathing sarcasm. "Forgive me if I don't believe you."

"Then how do you rationalize _that_?" Helena jerked her head towards Pete's immobile form. "If I let go, Myka, you'll fall out of this frozen time, but I'll stay, and I'll escape."

Myka was silent, gazing at the hand holding her fast, realizing belatedly that she wasn't trying very hard to escape. "So if what you're saying is true," she said slowly, "then this is how you escaped the FBI. And how you broke into those banks so fast."

Helena nodded mutely, but Myka didn't need the confirmation as her mind processed this new information logically.

"Why did you only appear for an instant on the FBI cameras? And why did the disabled cameras at your third hit only get a single frame?"

"When I touch something that didn't come with me, I return to real time."

"Okay, but why did the camera only capture a single frame when it was disabled all night?" Myka asked impatiently.

Helena shrugged, searching Myka's eyes for...something. "I would hazard a guess that this thing tampers with the signal I use to jam security systems."

Everything was falling into place in Myka's mind, and the hard look on her face softened unconsciously as she processed it. She no longer looked angry, but…blank. She looked at Helena with no emotion, and that stabbed at the criminal more than the betrayal she'd seen in Myka's eyes. "Why."

It took her a minute to notice that Myka had said anything. "Sorry?"

"_Why_, Helena?"

She looked away. "My daughter. She's in a lot of danger right now." Helena didn't say anything else, her thoughts heavy with worry for Christina.

"From whom?" Myka prompted.

The quiet voice jerked Helena from her reverie. "I have always been a criminal," she said finally. "I operated with a gang in mainland Europe for many years, robbing banks and rich people. When I got pregnant with Christina, I wanted out of that life. And I thought I was, until we were in a car accident, this awful accident, and she was in a coma for over a _year_…" Helena's eyes were haunted as she hazarded a glance at Myka's face. "The leader got in contact, and said he'd kill her if I didn't pay my way out of the gang, as was apparently proper."

"So you got far away from your daughter, to keep her safe from the authorities while you got together the money," Myka finished. Helena nodded, and she continued. "But that wasn't the _why_ I meant, Helena."

The Brit glanced up quickly, and the raw emotion gazing back at her stung. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I shouldn't have−I should've broken it off when I learned you were FBI."

"Yeah, you should've." Myka felt Helena's hard grip slacken, but she didn't pull away. "We can't pin anything on you, not while you're using methods not recognized by law," she muttered, sounding frustrated.

"That was rather the idea," Helena tried to joke, but the look she received in return was flat and unfriendly. "Sorry."

"So we've reached a stalemate." Myka chose her next words carefully, firmly pushing down her feelings for Helena. "I won't let you go because you'll escape federal custody, and you can't take us back into real time without sacrificing your own freedom, and your daughter."

"There's a third option. A very stupid one," Helena ventured, and this time her joke worked; Myka's little smile was bitter, but it was a smile.

"I'm not running away with you, Helena."

"It was worth a shot," Helena replied, emboldened by the response.

Myka thought, and she seemed not to notice as Helena's grip slipped and their fingers intertwined in the few feet between their bodies. "How much is left for you to pay the gang?" she asked suddenly.

"A few thousand."

She chewed on her lip. "If I helped you pay it off, would you let me arrest you?"

Helena started, shock widening her eyes. "I couldn't let you do that!"

"Tell your prosecutor about the duress. If you can throw in a few names, you could get off abominably easy," Myka continued as if she hadn't interrupted. "Pete's better with the criminal cases than I am, he'd know exactly how to cut that deal. Duress is a powerful thing," she offered.

"Myka, I can't let you do that."

"Well, I'm not going to stop until I've apprehended you, so why don't you just save everyone the trouble? This is in the best interests of everyone involved."

"But what's in it for you?" Helena asked shrewdly.

"I finally get to close this annoying case," Myka replied easily. She squeezed Helena's hand gently. "Come on, you know it's the best option."

"I−"

"Oh, and you have to turn that watch over so I can hurl it into the ocean. Is that a dealbreaker?"

"And what happens after everything is over?" Helena asked softly.

Myka suddenly remembered herself, and the hand holding Helena's tightened, the contact feeling to Helena less tender and more like a necessity. "You'll go back to England and raise your little girl," she said firmly.

Helena's shoulders slumped, ever so slightly. "Is that all?"

Myka looked away. She didn't trust herself to speak.

Helena nodded, and whispered another apology. Myka couldn't help but notice that of all of the things Helena had apologized for, her crime spree had not been one of them. Myka's free hand reached out to the hand holding the pocket watch, and Helena let her fold her fingers over it, shutting the lid.

And time resumed. "Pete," Myka announced, gently taking the watch from Helena and slipping it into her pocket.

He whirled, gun up, and she handcuffed Helena. "Holy shit."

"You want to come with us to get pie, and explain it all to Pete?" Myka asked as she closed the cold circles of metal around Helena's wrists.

"What's going on now?" Pete blurted. "Explain what?"

"It's a long story," Myka told him. She took Helena gently by the arm, taking her from the building with Pete trailing behind.

…

Steve was the first person they talked to, and Myka was relieved beyond words when he incredulously confirmed Helena's story.

The four of them decided to keep the secret as small as possible; not even Claudia would know. They had the young agent examine the device the Helena used on security systems; Claudia was frankly awed by its complexity and capabilities, and signed off on everything Helena said it could do, including altering when doors were reported as opened or closed. This, Helena lied to the tech, was how she seemed to get into and out so fast.

Pete cut her a deal for her full confession and names of the rest of the members of the European gang extorting her, as well as some slack for the coercion. Helena told Myka how to get the last of the money to the gang, and Myka passed it along to Jinks, who was running the sting.

When the trial was over, Helena was sentenced to a year in jail; duress and the deals she had struck could only get her so far.

Myka pulled some strings to get time with Helena, with the condition of Pete watching from a few yards away. They brought her to the shore of the Potomac nearest the courthouse.

"I figured you should be the one to do the honors, if you want to prove to me you're crime free," Myka explained, handing Helena a duct tape-wrapped object that fit neatly into her palm. Helena recognized the shape well, even with the fist-sized rock Myka had awkwardly taped to the bottom. The pocket watch.

"How many rolls of tape did you use on this monstrosity?" she asked facetiously, tossing it gently in her cuffed hands. Myka unlocked one of her wrists, and Helena drew back her arm. She gauged the distance, and hurled the pocket watch into the river as far as she could.

Myka watched the distant splash in satisfaction, and refastened Helena's handcuffs. She beckoned Pete over and kissed Helena's cheek. "Good-bye, Helena."

"Thank you, darling," Helena said softly.

For the first time since Helena had visited London, the term didn't send knives into Myka's gut. Maybe it was how cooperative Helena had been, maybe Myka didn't have as tight a rein on her emotions as she thought. Either way, she remained on the riverbank as Pete took Helena back up to his car.

She watched them drive off, and then turned back to the river, content.

…

Exactly one year later, she'd struggle with Helena again, but in Helena's defense, it would not be her fault. She wouldn't even be present for it. She would feel the effects, though, when Pete, of all people, showed up on her doorstep in London around six months after her release, talking too fast for her to understand, but she _did _pick up the word "pining".

Myka is going to be awfully cross with Pete, Helena would think on the plane, but Myka's reaction to seeing her again was positive enough that she figured the agent would get over it.

**[A/N]: I very much appreciate all the sweet reviews I've gotten from you guys, and I hope to see you all on my next Bering &amp; Wells fic! I can't say what my next fic will be, but I've got one coming around Christmas, a Secret Santa gift for the B&amp;W Exchange that yall should totally join! Happy shipping, and see you soon!**


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